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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721288">Aural Ambrosia</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/pseuds/lily%20rose'>lily rose (annabeth)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>piss!verse 2.0 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Desperation, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Incest, M/M, Sam is sixteen, Sibling Incest, Underage - Freeform, Watersports, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, as in a cliffhanger, blowjob, cocktease ending, first time blowjob, this means piss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:27:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,158</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721288</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/pseuds/lily%20rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sam is also in a state of desperate anticipation, body on high alert, cock already slightly swelled from his thoughts. His realizations. Because Dean went to get lunch, yes. But before that, Dean had drunk two huge bottles of water—it is that hot—and asked Sam what he wanted for lunch...</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>piss!verse 2.0 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787341</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Aural Ambrosia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's quiet in the motel room. Midday, sweltering hot outside, no sound from inside but the whir of the air conditioner, and Sam is sitting on the bed, cross-legged, shirtless, and sweating.</p>
<p>	But he's not sweating so much from the heat as from thoughts of Dean. His brother, who climbed into his shower nearly fully dressed, then removed his clothes and fucked up against Sam's ass until he came. Dean, who had quickly parsed what Sam was up to—how had he figured it out? Surely Dean had peed in the shower before—and instead of being rude about it, he'd helped Sam out.</p>
<p>	Dean's gone to get lunch. Sam is hot, damp, and tired—midday heat can sap all a person's energy, and on their last hunt, Sam was allowed to join John and Dean—and mildly injured from selfsame hunt. A monster grazed his bicep with its claws before Dean shot it. Sam wishes he could have been the one to waste the monster, but it wasn't to be, not this time.</p>
<p>	He hopes someday he'll be allowed not only to tag along, but to be trusted to do the job as well as their father and Dean.</p>
<p>	But Sam is also in a state of desperate anticipation, body on high alert, cock already slightly swelled from his thoughts. His realizations. Because Dean went to get lunch, yes. But before that, Dean had drunk two huge bottles of water—it is that hot—and asked Sam what he wanted for lunch—salad, like he really needed to ask.</p>
<p>	He'd left, a quick buss on Sam's forehead on his way out—and Dean's casual, sexual affection has been both a huge relief, and a cause for quiet celebration on Sam's part—and promised both a salad and iced coffee. Knowing Dean, his brother will bring back a cheeseburger with extra cheese and fixings, a beer, and <i>pie</i>. Sam thinks that the only thing Dean loves more than pie might be Sam himself. Which makes his belly all quivery inside from attraction.</p>
<p>	Now Sam is waiting rather impatiently for him to get back—and hoping he doesn't decide to avail himself of a restroom somewhere. Though why should he? Why use a seedy public bathroom when there's a perfectly good one back at the motel? Sam cleaned it himself—they don't allow the maids in, and these run-down, shabby places aren't always the cleanest—so Dean should come <i>back</i> to pee, right?</p>
<p>	Sam shifts on the bed, uncomfortable with his cock at half-mast and sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades—the air conditioner is half-broken, he thinks, because it's not doing anything to cut through this heat—and the humidity is making his hair curl at the ends. He uncrosses his legs and lies back, even though it's almost torturous to be on the bedspread with the way the sun is beating through the windows. The blinds are broken too, only able to be partway closed. Sam lets his legs sprawl apart, scratching the inside of his bare thigh, because he's just too hot.</p>
<p>	When Dean left, Sam had been wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and a pair of cutoff shorts. Now Sam is wearing next to nothing: in addition to losing his shirt, he's wearing only boxers, tented impressively even though he's not fully hard—Sam can see the tent if he looks down, and he knows he's generously endowed, even if Dean hadn't said so. So Dean is going to be surprised when he gets back.</p>
<p>	But will it be in a good way? Sam scratches his thigh again—probably a mosquito bite. Dean would tell him not to scratch—but Sam is old enough to know that; old enough to know better but to do it anyway because it's fucking itchy.</p>
<p>	He's just succumbing to heat-induced lassitude—his boner subsiding as his body relaxes toward a doze—when the key card clicks in the lock. Sam cracks one eye open, and the door creaks inward.</p>
<p>	"Hey, Sammy," Dean says. He's looking down, pocketing the Impala's keys, hands full of greasy bags and drinks, and as he sets them down on the side table, he glances up and catches sight of Sam. "<i>Hi</i>, Sam," he says appreciatively. "It is beastly hot out, isn't it?"</p>
<p>	"Just trying to survive," Sam says, intentionally coy. Will Dean pick up what he's laying down? Will he flirt back?</p>
<p>	"Got your salad, though you're a growing boy, Sammy. You should eat more substantial meals."</p>
<p>	"For dinner I will. For now it's too damn hot." Sam abandons his ungainly sprawl to sit up, knees still wide apart. He's watching Dean too closely—will his brother notice?</p>
<p>	"You happy to see me, Sammy?" Dean asks. "You must be, because you don't have any pockets." He grins, all flashing white teeth and decadent lips, and Sam has to bite back a groan and try not to tease Dean. He's not ready for Dean to pounce on him yet. And then—wonder of wonders—Dean grimaces a little. "Just gotta take a leak, Sam. Hold that thought."</p>
<p>	<i>Hold</i>, Sam thinks. That's something he's done—a term he picked up from those scandalous websites he's frequented in the past. He's good at erasing his browser history and hiding his online footprint, because Dean's been known to "borrow" his laptop to look at Busty Asian Beauties dot com. Sam has caught him at this and Dean is completely unrepentant. But a hold means to stave off pissing as long as possible, and more than once Sam has almost wet himself because he let himself get all the way up to a nine before seeking out a bathroom.</p>
<p>	Dean ruffles his hair on his way past the bed, disappears into the bathroom, and leaves the door slightly ajar. Sam does not think this is on purpose, at least not consciously. Dean has no need to lock it—neither he nor Sam ever do—and he's probably not thinking about what this will do to Sam.</p>
<p>	Sam flops backward, closes his eyes, and <i>listens.</i> The sweat rolling down his forehead, seeping into his armpits, and popping out over his thighs isn't from the heat this time.</p>
<p>	It's from Dean.</p>
<p>	Dean, pissing. The sound is like aural ambrosia to Sam—his cock has stood up and taken notice—and he simply tries to breathe through the intense arousal it engenders. The hiss of it as Dean stands over the toilet, his cock in his hand. Sam can picture this clearly—he doesn't even have to have seen it, he's a guy, he knows what it's like.</p>
<p>	The splash as it hits the water in the bowl. The sound of the spatter as it hits the porcelain. And the undercurrent of Dean's breath as he relaxes and relieves himself, the slight hitch of it as he finds relief from an uncomfortable—yet arousing, at least to Sam—sensation.</p>
<p>	All too soon, it's over, just the tinkle of the last drops as Dean shakes himself off. The flush of the toilet—and Dean washing his hands, then exiting the bathroom to catch sight of Sam—and how could he not? Sam's lying on the bed, his eyes still shut, listening to his brother come closer and closer. Sam's erection must be a thing of beauty right now, he's so hard. He's never <i>been</i> this hard.</p>
<p>	And it's all because of Dean. Hearing someone take a piss—and he's been in plenty of public bathrooms—has never enthralled him the way it has when Dean's done it. It's Dean, only Dean—forever Dean. Sam licks his lips—slowly, deliberately. He knows Dean's watching; he can feel the weight of his gaze. Then the mattress dips a little as Dean puts one knee onto it, leaning over Sam, his breath warm and slightly sour.</p>
<p>	"Tell me, Sammy, what's got you so worked up?" Dean's face is so close. Sam can feel the heat of his skin—the droplet of sweat that falls from Dean's hair and hits just above his left eyebrow. He opens his eyes; Dean's face is gravely serious, but Sam gets the sense that it's an affectation, that he's still teasing—just with a straight face.</p>
<p>	"Can't you guess?" Sam says, affecting a little grin of his own—something lighthearted to balance Dean.</p>
<p>	"You, baby brother, are a tease. All this hot, hard lust, just for me. I feel so honored." Dean's eyes are dancing, the green beautiful enough to wallow in.</p>
<p>	"Shut up, Dean," Sam says. But it's with a smile, because they <i>are</i> brothers, and it's expected of them to tease each other and bicker. Dean's hand comes down and palms Sam through his boxers—Sam holds in his moan as best he can. He's spent years learning how to control his own volume, because lying in bed next to Dean and getting off has meant a need for complete silence—or at least it did, before.</p>
<p>	Before that very significant shower.</p>
<p>	"You're lusty. And so impressively built. I just want to—" Dean's hand is moving, slow little circles. Sam's cock likes it—maybe too much.</p>
<p>	"Ask me, Dean," Sam says, allowing his hips to lurch up a little. "Just ask."</p>
<p>	"What's got you into such a state?" Dean asks, grinning now. His mouth, oh his mouth, and his sparkling green eyes. Sam is a goner for Dean—there's no saving him, no curing this.</p>
<p>	"Well…" Sam hedges, watching Dean's eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement. "You, of course." Sam lazily reaches up and threads his fingers into Dean's short honey-blonde hair. "And the sound of you."</p>
<p>	Dean's laughing now, silently, his gorgeous lips curved.</p>
<p>	"You mean the sound of me pissing," Dean says, winking at Sam. "Always so delicate, my little brother. And yet he's so dirty, too." Dean's hand is… Sam has hardly noticed because of their conversation, but Dean's fingers have slipped inside his waistband, and he's easing his boxers down. Sam is noticing <i>now</i>, though, and his cock springs forth like a martinet ready for battle, a gun just itching to go off—and Sam loses his mind when Dean licks his lower lip, slides down the bed, and wraps his lips around Sam's cock.</p>
<p>	Sam doesn't <i>mean</i> to—he's still only sixteen years old—but this is the first time something like this has happened, hotwetsilky around the head of his cock, and it's <i>Dean's mouth</i> besides, so surely he can be forgiven for coming so hard it's like a rocket lifting off into space, his back bowing off the bed, his eyes slamming closed, his cock just jerking and jerking and twitching in Dean's mouth.</p>
<p>	Dean doesn't pull back though; he stays there, holding his mouth in place, and takes what Sam's giving him—every last drop, and when Sam recovers enough to open his eyes, Dean's Adam's apple is jumping as he swallows Sam's load.</p>
<p>	"That's pretty impressive, Sammy," Dean says when he finally pulls off, even as he licks a sticky strand of come from his bottom lip. "How long's it been since you got off?"</p>
<p>	"Not that long," Sam admits. "Yesterday." <i>When Dean was in the car, looking for a rest area, his leg bouncing and his lower lip clenched between his teeth to stave off the urge</i>, Sam thinks, remembering how hard he'd gotten, and how satisfying his orgasm had been later that night, in the shower—no peeing this time, though; he hadn't even needed it, just those memories of Dean.</p>
<p>	"You're holding out on me," Dean says. "Save it next time, Sammy. I want all of your orgasms to be for me, and me alone."</p>
<p>	"Then we should try what we talked about," Sam says. This is still so innocent, in its infancy, when something as small as listening to Dean piss can lead to <i>this</i>.</p>
<p>	"You want me to piss on you?" Dean has moved up Sam's body, lipping at his nipple. It feels a little strange—Sam's never encountered lips on his nipple before either—but good, too. He slides his hand down Dean's chest, lower and lower, till he can feel the bulge of Dean behind the fly of his jeans.</p>
<p>	"Maybe not yet," Sam whispers. "Because I just got off, and you just went. But <i>this</i> needs taking care of." He fondles Dean to demonstrate what he means, and Dean rolls his hips, moaning, mouth falling open. Sam traces the shape of Dean's lips with a finger, so in love with them—and yet he hadn't even seen what they looked like on his cock, because it had felt so fucking good.</p>
<p>	"You gonna take care of me, Sammy?" Dean asks, another slow roll of his hips pushing his erection up against Sam's hand.</p>
<p>	"Oh, I will." Sam knows his grin is devilish. "I have to piss, Dean."</p>
<p>	Dean shudders, and Sam knows what they're going to be doing—and <i>soon</i>.</p>
<p>END</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don't remember where I learned this (probably Tumblr, to be honest) but in the community where people engage in watersports, there's a rank for how badly you have to piss before you wet yourself, one being not at all, and nine being almost wetting. (I am paraphrasing. If this is inaccurate, please tell me!) But that's what Sam is referring to in the fic.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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